


The Last Leaf on the Tree

by reyiosa



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Holiday Special (TV), Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Fluff and Humor, Gen or Pre-Slash, Holidays, Jedi Culture & Tradition (Star Wars), Life Day (Star Wars), Light Angst, M/M, Sharing a Bed, The Extremely Festive Wookiee Ships Them, The T-rating is for angsty discussions, Time Travel, Wookiee Worldbuilding, Wookiees (Star Wars), mentions of past death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:06:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28482858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reyiosa/pseuds/reyiosa
Summary: Agen Kolar was not expecting his first off-world mission with his new Padawan to take him into a full-on Life Day celebration on Kashyyyk.Nor did he expect the Mandalorian that he's supposed to share quarters with.He's making do. It's Life Day, after all.
Relationships: Jango Fett/Agen Kolar
Comments: 7
Kudos: 45





	The Last Leaf on the Tree

**Author's Note:**

  * For [anaisonfire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anaisonfire/gifts).



> This is so fucking late, and not even _done_ , but this idea bit me and refused to let go, so I plan to post everything within the next week. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this excessively thorough exploration of the Wookiee Life Day and the unbelievable hoops being drawn to get Jango and Agen to share a bed without killing each other.

“I can’t say that this,” said Agen, “was in the mission briefing.”

Knight Garen Muln—their pilot for this particular venture—threw up his hands. “I’ve tried every landing port in Kachirho, Awrathakkka, and Rwookrrorro I could think of: no answers from any of them. Unless you want me to reach out to the other side of Kashyyyk, we’re not getting down there any time soon.”

Agen paused, thought for a moment. “Try here,” he said, typing coordinates into the navicomputer. 

Muln squinted at the name that popped up, then blinked, his eyes popping like kern nuts over a fire. “I’m not even going to try to pronounce that, but I’ll take us there.”

“Krrsayyrirwyilluukk,” said Agen, his pronunciation flawless from years of practice, “is the village where Master Tyvokka was born and raised until a Searcher found him. They should be friendly to Jedi at least.”  _ If we don’t get a response from them, then we’re not getting one out of anyone _ , was his unspoken supposition.

Muln nodded, understanding and changed course. Agen exited the cockpit to find Tan in the bunking room. He was going through their supply kits for the third time and packing as many human-friendly rations into his kit as he could just in case.

“Padawan,” said Agen softly. Tan still jumped and whirled around, nearly hitting his head on a low-hanging pipe.

“Yes, Master?” the young Human managed in a calm voice.  


“We’re finding for a place to land on Kashyyyk now. We’re not sure why, but the largest landing ports aren’t responding to our comms. We’re trying one last village before we figure out what to do next.”

Tan’s lower lip trembled minutely as he nodded. “Will we have to land without a pad?”

“No,” said Agen firmly. “There’s no need to endanger ourselves for this mission.” Kashyyyk’s most solid defense was its flora and fauna. Not even the bravest Wookiees ventured beneath a click from the forest floor. There was no truly safe way to land on the planet without an existing platform and guidance from someone on the ground. 

A speaker crackled. “Master Kolar, return to the bridge please,” warbled a tinny version of Knight Muln’s voice. Agen made to return to the cockpit before pausing. “Padawan, would you join me.”

Tan obeyed without question, bringing both survival packs with him. Agen hoped he did not need them.

“Got a response,” Muln said as soon as they reentered the cockpit. He handed a mic to Agen, an odd look on his face. “It’s the village chief.”

Frowning, Agen took it and pressed the transmit button. “This is Jedi Master Agen Kolar.”

“Greetings, Master Jedi, and most joyous Life Day to you!” roared the voice over the comm.

Time slowed down as the wave of understanding, exasperation, and frustration rolled through Agen. He breathed once, twice, to expel his emotions, and ignored Muln’s twitchy-looking grin and Tan’s wide brown eyes.

“I’m Shruukabukk,” continued the speaker, her intonation in Shyriwook indicating she used she/her pronouns. “Your pilot tells me you’re seeking our hospitality for a quest, is that so?”

Agen grimaced. “Yes, the chief of Herruhnhukk, Okchorral, invited us to meet a child who has been blessed by the Force. We’re merely looking for a safe place to land before we make our way there, we do not wish to impose.”

“Nonsense!” boomed Shruukabukk. “The day after tomorrow begins the feasts of Life Day, and all on Kashyyyk are welcome to join us. Come with us hen we make our way to the Great Tree. All will be there, no doubt your Force-blessed cub as well. I’ve known Okchi since she was a cub at her mothers’ teet. I’ll introduce you myself!”

Agen sighed. “Your offer is most gracious.” Shruukabukk was being quite generous, but not outrageously so by Wookiee standards, and as village chief, her word was one to rely on. She would do exactly what she promised to do, Agen had no doubt.

But spending a full Life Day on Kashyyyk was...unexpected. This was meant to be a simple Search, done to ease Tan’s anxiety on off-world missions. Having something go awry was the way of a Jedi Knight, but this was avoidable, and Agen did not wish to put his anxious Padawan through avoidable trials.

Not to mention that Agen himself, while fluent in Shyriwook and familiar with Wookiee culture, was not the most sociable or diplomatic of his generation.

“Master,” began Tan in his usual gentle way. “I thought Life Day was several months away.”

“It is. The Republic version, that is,” explained Agen by rote as he decided what to do. “The original Life Day of the Wookiees is based on their lunar calendar. It takes about three and a half standard years for the three moons of Kashyyyk to complete a full cycle, and Life Day celebrates the beginning of a new one.”

“It’s a big deal,” added Muln. “Every time you hear a party get compared to ‘Wookie on Life Day’, be skeptical, because it’s not even close.  _ Wookies gone wild  _ doesn’t even  _ begin _ to cover it.”

“Thank you, Knight Muln,” said Agen solidly. Muln took the hint and shut up, but not looking quite contrite enough. To his Padawan, Agen said softly: “We do not have to take up their offer. We can hand off this mission to another Master-Padawan pair to take in a week. The Agricorps has an outpost just one sector over, and Master Tru Me’pa would be glad to host us for a cycle or two.”

Heading back to Coruscant would be a long haul for a new mission. Kashyyyk was a far-off planet and took five days of hyperspace travel from the Core-bound capital of the Republic. But Agen would do it if it made his Padawan more comfortable.

Agen never doubted when young Tan Yuster, brown eyes big and wobbly, told him quietly about a dream of them fighting side-by-side in a desert as Master and Padawan, but all new pairings went through growing pains. Agen had to learn that his Padawan’s shyness and caution manifested in debilitating physical ways, and Tan had to learn that his Master was in fact not reckless, but rather decisive in his actions. 

Introducing Tan to a raucous social gathering that would make the stoutest Jedi warriors think twice about joining seemed like a poor choice for their fledging Master-Padawan relationship.

Tan’s forehead scrunched as he silently made his decision. “I think,” he finally said, “we should take the offer.”

“We are under no obligation,” reiterated Agen. He was openly being considered for a High Council seat, and while he had no interest in the prestige that came with such an honor, he would use that status to refuse this mission if it saved his padawan strife.

“I think the Force is telling me we should go,” Tan said, even more quietly, but still determined. His chin was set the same way it was when one year ago he toldd Agen that they would be Master and Padawan. “I– It would be very educational.”

Agen raised a single eyebrow.

“But I’m not drinking any liquor at all,” said Tan firmly, finding his stride.   


Agen had to suppress a smile, but nodded. _That_ sounded more like his Padawan.

“Very different conversation than what I was having as a Padawan,” muttered Knight Muln, not quite quietly enough.

* * *

Their landing was uneventful and greeted by the entire village. But the latter was more coincidental than anything; the Wookiees were loading daypacks into wroshyr-framed catamarans. Some wore garlands of leaves on their bandoliers, others had red berries embroidered on their packs. 

None were nearly as impressive as the white-furred Wookiee who stood a head and a half taller than the rest. They wore an intricately braided beard, interlaced with branches of needle-like leaves and pinecones. Upon seeing Agen and Tan on the landing pad, the white-furred Wookie threw their paws in the air and roared, “Welcome, travelers! Most joyous Life Day to you!”

“Most joyous Life Day to you,” replied Agen in Basic. He followed with a slight bow.

“Most joyous Life Day!” echoed Tan, his voice squeaking, and his bow far deeper that it ought to be.

“Polite younglings, excellent!” The Wookiee chuckled. “I’m Shruukabukk, and you are under my protection here among my clan.”

Agen recognized the ritual in the words and bowed again. “Thank you, we accept your hospitality and your protection.”

“Yes, thank you, Chief Shruukabukk,” echoed Tan, voice still wobbling and eyes wide as moons, staring at the Wookie who was more than twice his height.

“Ah, young one, do not worry, I don’t bite!” roared Shruukabukk with a huff laugh. “Unless you become dinner, but that only happens if you mortally offend us.”

The color ran out of Tan’s face.

“A joke, child! A joke!” She quickly reassured. Turning to Agen, she whispered. “Is the young one ill?”

“Merely excited,” replied Agen, watching Tan regain his composure with red cheeks. “He’s never spent Life Day on Kashyyyk before.”

“Ah, then he must get the full experience. Rrongryyhn!”

A brown-and-black-haired Wookiee jogged over from the major landing pads, their feet thumping with every step. “Yes, great-grandmother?”

Shruukabukk thumped the new Wookiee on the back and gestured at Tan. “This is...”

“Jedi Padawan Tan Yuster, he/him,” Tan all but gusted out. “Ma’am. Uh.”

Sheuukabukk snorted. “Call me Shruukabukk. Or Shruu! This”—she patted the Wookiee again, who despite their half-head on Agen, looked ready to fall over with the force of the blow—“is Rrongryyhn.” The intonation implied that Rrongryyhn used she/her pronouns. “All younglings and cubs stay together for Life Day. How’s your Shyriwook, child?”

Tan understood enough Shyriwook for his eyes to widen and widen with every word. Agen intervened while Tan looked ready to faint. “As his Master, I will be continuing my teaching before Life Day is upon us, and that does require that we bunk together. We must rise and sleep with the same cycle. It is the Jedi way.”

Tan said nothing but his relief was palpable in the Force. Shruukabukk looked disappointed. “Alright,” she said, “but no work on Life Day! It’s extremely important. Our ancestors are to be remembered, not put second to our mundanities.”

“Great-grandmother, it’s fine.” Rrongryyhn rolled her eyes and gave Tan a sidelong glance. “Listen, Jedi, she might not budge tomorrow night, but we’ll bring a translator we can use. It’ll be fine, and we’re really just keeping the cubs out of the way so that the adults can go crazy.”

Tan nodded. “Thank you, I... I’ll have to speak to my Master, but the offer is appreciated.”

Agen was happy to pretend to be a stickler to give Tan this out. “We’ll discuss, Padawan,” he intoned, and sent warmth over their training bond. It was met with grace and appreciation, and a small outward smile from Tan.

“Good, good, now I’ll show you where you’ll be staying. You’ll be joining our other traveler. He’s human like you, child,” she said directly to Tan. “You’ll have to check with him to see how much of our food is safe for your gentle digestive systems. You, Zabrak”—she gently pushed Agen, and it took the Force to keep him from falling over—“you’re of stronger stuff. We’ll keep you well-fed. Farmer!” She called out suddenly, her bellow reverberating off the wooden bridges and platforms.

“Who is your other traveler?” asked Agen.

“A friend!” She grinned. “From a far-off system. Farmer!”

“What?” called out a definitely Human voice in Basic. It was obscured by a vocoder, the reason became evident when the figure rounded the corner.

Agen had met very few Mandalorians in his life. Neither his apprenticeship nor his knighthood took him across the Mandalore system nor its children. Nevertheless, the silhouette of their armor— _beskar’gam_ , he internally corrected—was iconic, and this wearer wore theirs like a skin. 

The white breastplate, blue visor, and gray detailing seemed significant, but Agen did not know enough to read the full message.

He understood enough about sentients in general to read the sheer hostility in the way the Mandalorian bit out, “ _ Jetiise _ .”

“Farmer, meet Jedi Master Agen Kolar and his apprentice Tan Yuster.” Shruukabukk pronounced their names almost as one word: Agenkolar and Tanyuster. She carefully placed her paws on their shoulders. “They’ve accepted my protection. Do your quarters have space for bunking or are you still leaving your armor all over the floor like an unkempt pup?”

It occurred to Agen that perhaps accepting Shruukabukk’s protection was worth more than a polite gesture. The Mandalorian folded their arms and after several long moments let out a huff. 

“There’s room on the floor,” they grumbled. “Follow me, Jedi.” They turned back towards the huts nestled in the trees, not looking back to see if Agen or Tan complied. Agen did so, Tan quickly behind his steps. Shruukabukk pulled the rear, her strides long and leisurely. The pinecones in her beard swayed with every step.

The Mandalorian led them to a side hut that sat just off the most ornate one—the chief’s lodgings, Agen assumed, although Shruukabukk gave no sign of it. The small hut had two rooms, and was more cozy than spacious–clearly meant to be guest quarters rather than the ancestral home of a Wookiee. But despite Shruukabukk’s warnings, the Mandalorian’s belongings were tidily arranged. The sleeping quarters left enough space for two more sleeping mats to join what was likely the Mandalorian’s own.

“Welcome to the hostage quarters,” said the Mandalorian, waving their hand at the space. “You can lay your packs here. Doesn’t matter where, you’ll only be here for one night anyway.” 

Tan’s frisson of fear slid through the bond, and Agen sent back warmth and a gentle reminder to  _ let go _ . 

Shruukabukk merely laughed. “Farmer, you’re too hard on them.” To Agen and Tan, she explained, “We depart tomorrow at first light and make for the Great Tree. You truly arrived just in time to join our festivities!”

“How lucky,” grumbled the Mandalorian.

“It is!” exclaimed Shruukabukk without a hint of irony. “Life Day is the most important holiday of all for a reason. Our cubs across the galaxy return home for this, and many are due to arrive today. I must go greet them with appropriate cheer. They expect this of their chief now.” She looked more pleased than put-out by the responsibility however. With a dip of her head, she made to exit their quarters. “Farmer, Jedi.” And then she was gone.

The Mandalorian said nothing for a while. Tan watched as Agen slowly lowered his pack to the floor, then did so himself, carefully monitoring the Mandalorian in the Force. Agen could feel his Padawan’s anxiety in waves. 

“What shall we call you?” asked Agen. “You have our names, even if you don’t use them.”

“Master,” hissed Tan, half out of fear, half out of reflexive indignation.

The Mandalorian just huffed, however. “You planning to make nice with someone you’re gonna spend two, three days with?”

“It is considered polite,” answered Agen.

They tilted their helmet, considering. “Call me J’mee, he/him,” said the Mandalorian finally. “Don’t touch my shit, I’ll know.”

And with that, he too walked out, leaving Agen bemused and Tan bewildered.

That night, Tan and Agen retired early for the evening along with the most sensible Wookiees—some were too excited by the arrival of family and friends that they’d not seen over the last three years to settle down for the morning’s travels. Later though, Agen woke to the sound of a quiet argument just outside the hut’s walls.

It was a mix of Shyriwook and Basic, making it easy to identify at least one of the speakers.

“This is the kind of security risk you hired me to prevent, Shruuka,” hissed J’mee.

“They are good people,” responded the Shyriwook speaker, Shruukabukk apparently. “We had nothing to worry about, trust my nose”

“Enemies can be disguised as friends, and your landing pads are your biggest weakness. Once a ship of combatants lands, it’s over. And you should never underestimate a Jedi.”

“Fear has a smell,” replied Shruukabukk, preternaturally calm. “As does hate. I have lived more human lifetimes than you, Farmer. You fear the past so much you let it cloud the future.”

“Perhaps what you should fear is your children’s future.”

“Do not say what you’re not prepared to defend, Farmer,” growled Shruukabukk. Her subvocals were partially audible to Agen’s hearing, but the sheer threat in what he could hear made him tense. “I have raised cubs from teat to grave, and I’ve raised and buried their cubs in turn. The ones who I gave life will not be held hostage by anyone, even you.”

A long pause before the vocoder let out a hiss. “Understood.”

“Good. You have done well to prepare us for what may happen. Have faith that between your vision and our senses, we will be ready should the worst come to pass.”

Another long pause, then J’mee let out a grumble. “I may be paranoid, but I’m not always wrong.”

“No,” agreed Shruukabukk. “No, you’re not.”

When Agen heard nothing more, he closed his eyes. He heard the shuffle of the Mandalorian’s armor as J’mee entered the sleeping quarters, heard the scrape of boots on wooden floors, listened to the gentle rasping of metal on cloth as armor plates were carefully removed, the sound almost rhythmic. 

Agen, for all that his reputation was merited, was not reckless, but rather decisive. So when he opened his eyes briefly, knowing the flash of his retinas would be golden and highly visible in this low light, it was a deliberate move to know who was sharing his quarters with his peacefully sleeping Padawan.

J’mee was all in all Human, his skin dark even in the shadow, and his hair darker still. Age carved itself in scars and lines over a square jaw, an angular nose, and high-set cheeks. In the marginal light, Agen saw his eyes: brown like wet earth after rainfall, like the wood of vanna trees on a far moon Agen once visited years ago. The eyes of a man who had walked away from as many battles as he walked into.

In the second and a half that Agen snuck a look at the man, those eyes fixed right on his own. 

Agen’s lightsaber was not far, and his reflexes were honed for both a Jedi and a Zabrak. But even a Jedi could be outdrawn by a cunning warrior with a blaster, and J’mee looked as if he kept a blaster and more nearby at all times. 

But the Mandalorian did not move his hand, even as he kept his gaze on Agen. He merely shook his head. “Go back to sleep, Jedi.”

Agen was tempted to be contrarian, but dawn was near and he needed to awaken before in order to guide the day’s first meditation with Tan. So he let sleep take him, and the image of those dark eyes crinkling with some emotion unknowable lay over the back of his lids.


End file.
